The Best Is Yet to Come. Diana Palmer
“Oh, Ryder, it’s so good to see you!”
“You’ve been mooning around, haven’t you, pretty girl?” he asked softly. “I’ll have to take you in hand.”
“I guess I need it,” she sighed. She leaned forward and nuzzled her nose against his with warm affection. “Where have you been this time?”
“Germany.” His voice sounded oddly strained. His eyes searched hers. “Ivy,” he whispered.
He sounded strange. She frowned and felt his big hands contract, bringing her robed body closer.
“What is it?” she asked gently.
His mouth suddenly dropped to her neck and pressed against it hotly. She heard his breath shudder faintly, and her body tensed at the unexpected feel of his mouth on her skin. His lips opened; his tongue stroked the side of her neck. The sensation was suddenly, shockingly intimate. She actually gasped and her body went rigid.
“Shocked?” he murmured. His mouth moved up to her ear and his teeth took the lobe, gently biting. All the time his arms were closing around her slender body, until she was closer to him than she’d been in five years. Her hands clenched on the fine cloth of his suit as he wrapped her up against him and worried her earlobe with his teeth and tongue. Her body began to tremble, to burn. Her legs felt as if they might not support her at all. It had never felt this way with Ben. Even when they were most intimate, she’d never been on fire for him. Her eyes closed and she could have cried out with the anguished pleasure of his mouth on her skin. Dreams had sustained her for so long. The reality was shattering.
She moaned softly. Ben, she thought miserably. Ben, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...
She must have unconsciously said his name because Ryder went rigid all at once, deadly still. He set her roughly back on her feet and released her. Above her his face was like a granite carving, his eyes cold.
“Don’t ever make that mistake,” he said curtly. “I won’t play substitute for you, Ivy.”
Her face began to color. “But, Ryder...”
“Where’s your mother?” he asked. “Inside, staring out to see what happens next?” The hardness left and he was Ryder again, lazily indifferent to her blushes as he took her by the arm. “How about breakfast? I’m starved. They only gave us a three-course meal on the damned airplane. I haven’t had anything in hours.”
He was impossible. A minute ago, she’d been vibrating with desire, seconds later she’d wanted to slap him soundly, now he had her laughing again. “You and your appetite,” she burst out. “Your sister Eve used to go into gales of laughter telling about your midnight raids on the kitchen.”
“I miss Eve,” he sighed. “She and Curt live in Nassau, but I’m hardly ever in that neighborhood anymore.”
“I had an email from her a few weeks ago,” she replied.
At that moment Ivy’s mother bounced into the hall. “Ryder, how wonderful to see you!”
Ryder made a grab for Jean, arched her over one arm and kissed her cheek with a theatrical flair. “Darling,” he said with a stage leer, “come away with me.”
“Alas,” Jean sighed, holding her forearm over her eyes, “I cannot. The sink is full of dirty dishes.”
“Cynic,” he accused, raising her again. “You’ve broken my heart. It will take at least a platter of scrambled eggs to make it whole again. A couple of biscuits. A pot of coffee...” He was already on his way into the kitchen.
“Your stomach will do you in, one day,” Ivy accused as she followed with her mother.
“Only if I marry a girl who can’t cook,” Ryder returned. He sat down at the table wearily. “God, what a long drive.”
“Where did you come from?” Ivy asked as she set him a place at the table, which was already laden with food.
“The stork brought me...” he began.
“The stork couldn’t have carried you,” came the smug reply. “You were probably unloaded under a cabbage leaf by a backhoe....”
“Keep it up,” he dared. “Come on. One more remark about my weight and you’ll be wearing your scrambled eggs.”
“Peasant,” she said with mock arrogance.
“I have earthy leanings, all right,” he mused, watching her with a predatory smile.
She went scarlet, grateful that her mother’s back was turned. She couldn’t meet his playful eyes. Remembering the feel of his mouth on her neck made her knees go weak. It was disloyal to go lusting after a man on the heels of her husband’s death. Except that she’d lusted after Ryder since her fifteenth birthday, heart and soul. She’d managed to keep him from seeing it, but over the years her love had grown stronger. It was because of Ryder that she’d never been able to give herself fully to Ben. It had been Ryder whom she’d wanted, from the first day she’d seen him. But he’d been rich and she’d been poor and too young to catch his eyes. So she’d buried her hopeless longings and married Ben. She couldn’t afford to try to go back to the past. She’d cheated Ben and now he was dead. She owed him loyalty if nothing less. Ryder didn’t want her that way, anyway. He was only teasing. She was sure of it.
Ryder, watching her, could see the wall going up. He sighed as he creamed the coffee Jean had just poured him. “I drove down from the Atlanta airport,” he volunteered. “The house is cold and there’s no heat...” He contrived to look pitiful.
“You can stay with us,” Jean said. “We have a spare bedroom.”
“Of course,” Ivy seconded, but she wouldn’t look at him.
He hesitated, watching Ivy. “No, that’s all right,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t want to impose. I can buy some thermal underwear and wrap up in a blanket.”
Ivy burst out laughing at that picture. Ryder could have checked into the local motel. For goodness’ sake, he could have bought the local motel. And here he sounded as if he’d freeze without them.
“You poor man,” Ivy said, turning, vividly beautiful with her black eyes sparkling in her flushed, animated face.
“Poor, in some ways,” he agreed, smiling faintly while he stared and stared, mesmerized by her beauty. “You’re a nice girl, Ivy,” he mused, and forced his eyes back onto his plate as they all sat down. “I’ll stay at the house, but I appreciate being invited to breakfast. I was starved, and this is delicious,” he added, savoring a bite of perfect scrambled eggs.
“Thank you,” Jean said, grinning at him.
“Can Ivy cook like this?” he asked.
“Of course,” Jean replied.
Ryder pursed his firm lips and grinned. “My stomach hears wedding bells.”
Ivy went white. It was the shock, of course, the remembrance of grief, of what she’d lost. Ryder didn’t feel things this deeply, she tried to tell herself, he wouldn’t understand how much it hurt to joke about it, when she had Ben on her conscience. Ben. She’d killed Ben...!
He caught her just as she went sideways, lifting her gently in his hard arms. “For God’s sake...” he ground out, his face betraying a flash of helpless shock.
“She’ll get over it,” Jean said. “She’s hardly slept lately, or eaten very much. It’s early days yet, and she loved him.”
“Yes,” Ryder bit off coldly. “I know.”
Jean glanced at him and glanced quickly away, because what she’d glimpsed in his face was too private, too hellish, for words. “Here, put her on the sofa. I’ll get a cold cloth.”
He didn’t reply. He carried his light burden into the living room and put her down gently on the big couch. He knelt beside